Safe in Music's Arms
by PhantressSaphira
Summary: Unlike other stories of the Phantom and his love for the young soprano, this tale takes place in 21st Century New York. Christine meets her masked stranger at a national vocal competition, completely oblivious that nine months later, this tall, dark, and handsome masked man will become her saving grace when her life becomes darker and tragic.
1. Acquaintance

**Safe in Music's Arms: An Erik x Christine Love Story**

By:

Phantress Saphira

Chapter One: Acquaintance

It was a cold and bitter mid-January morning. Winter recess was still commencing, so barely a student was in sight on Julliard's campus. However, the National Association of Teachers of Singing (N.A.T.S) competition was taking place, which meant that campus was not completely empty.

This was Christine Daaé's third year in a row taking part in this competition. She originally didn't want to sign up for it after what happened the previous year, but she got talked into doing it anyway. As she approached the door to the room where her first performance of the day was going to take place, she began to feel a tight pain in her chest. Various amount of voices echoed throughout the hallway…and they weren't unpleasant. In fact, these voices were intimidating. If only the rooms had been soundproof…

Trying to drown out the voices by humming her pieces, Christine's eyes scanned the appointed time of her session with the judges. She had about twenty minutes to do any last minute preparations.

She then read the names of the other competitors in her division. None of these names were familiar. Well, of course, being eighteen years old and being a part of a new age group, it was to be expected.

Christine took a deep breath, clutched to the black binders containing her music tightly to her bosom, and placed her back against the wall, continuing to attempt to drown out the voices from the nearby rooms. Unfortunately, nothing was working.

"Christine?"

Reality returned when Christine heard her name being called. Letting her eyes follow the sound her ears had heard, she became face-to-face with her current mentor and mother figure, Ms. Giry. Her daughter, Meg, was behind her, clutching onto her sleeve for security.

"I'm nervous…" Christine muttered. "These voices sound like serious business. Do you think I have what it takes this year?"

Ms. Giry sighed, smiled and placed a warm, comforting hand on Christine's shoulder.

"You always do, my dear," she assured, "Last year was just bad luck. You have very much recovered since then."

Christine's performance the previous year was a travesty. The night before, her father had committed suicide after regrettably, nearly beating his daughter to death while heavily intoxicated. Being able to perform the next day, despite the trashed voice from screaming and crying was a miracle in itself. Regardless, it had cost Christine a place for a scholarship, as well as any praise from the judges, and she had beaten herself up (both mentally and physically) for it. She had to go to therapy for at least six months to recover from this tragedy.

"We believe in you Christine," Meg added, giving Christine an encouraging smile. "You're fantastic beyond your years."

"Thanks, I guess…" Christine replied shyly.

She took another deep breath, and stared at the door, where the judges lurked on the other side. Any moment now…

"Before you go in there…" Ms. Giry reached over to Christine's long, curly, chestnut locks and attempted to comb through them gently with her long fingernails, "we need to fix this hair of yours. It looks like a hurricane went through it."

Christine let out a disgusted sigh as she impatiently waited for Ms. Giry to comb out the knots and frizz. And then, Ms. Giry took out a black ribbon from her dress pocket, and with it, tied Christine's hair into a presentable pony tail.

"There," she said when she finished. "Now, the judges will be able to see your beautiful face."

Christine turned to face her mentor and thanked her with a nervous smile.

"I love your outfit, by the way," Ms. Giry then pointed out, beaming at Christine's modest navy blue dress draped with a white, lacy shawl. "It's very appropriate and flattering."

Christine, once again, didn't say anything, but smiled at the compliment. But then her complexion suddenly changed when she felt a vibration in her dress pocket. It came from her cell phone. Quickly, Christine took her phone out of her pocket, and checked the screen. A huge grin appeared on her face. It was a text message from her significant other, Raoul.

_"Wishing you the best at your competition,"_ it had said, _"Tell me how it goes when you're done. Sending lots of love." _

"I know that smile anywhere," Meg teased, approaching Christine and nudging her shoulder. "Your boyfriend just sent you a text, didn't he?"

"Oh, shush, Meg." Christine giggled as she bumped Meg away.

Meg laughed before going back to her mother's side, and crossed her arms. She felt very proud of herself, considering the fact that she was the one who introduced Christine to Raoul one year ago, almost to the day. Ironically, the three of them had no idea that what was meant to be a well-meaning friendship was going to turn into a romantic relationship. It was slightly complicated for a while, but after Christine and Raoul talked it out, their love was envied by many, including Meg, who had yet to find a love of her own.

"So, what did he say?" Both Meg and her mother asked in sync.

"He wants me to do well, that's all." Christine answered while replying to her text at the same time. Once the text was sent, she put her phone back in her pocket.

Suddenly, the door behind Christine slowly opened, and a young lady (probably in her early twenties) slipped past and hurried down the hall. Then another woman of fifty kept the door open and placed a hand on Christine's shoulder.

"Miss Daaé, they're ready for you now." She whispered, giving Christine an encouraging smile.

Nerves began to build once more as Christine stared beyond the room where the judges awaited her. After one last slow, deep breath, she entered the room, and once she had done so, the door closed tight behind her.

The judges looked at her as if they had seen her face before. Their eyebrows were raised, and they began to whisper to one another. This made Christine even more nervous than she already was. However, she managed to hide her nerves and make her way towards the pianist, who greeted her with an encouraging smile. The pianist was a slightly older lad, probably five or six years Christine's senior. He wore khakis that looked like they were just recently purchased, combined with a black polo top that hugged his slim figure. His blond hair was parted enough to not obstruct his vision. Christine shyly returned the pianist smile as she gave him her music and informed him about the annotations before facing the judges in the middle of the room.

"Good morning," she managed to project, her voice shaking just slightly, "I am Christine Daaé, and I will be performing for you today."

* * *

"So, how did it go?" Meg asked when Christine finished her performance in front of the judges and returned into the hallway. "I couldn't hear very well through the walls."

Christine, after catching her breath from all the nerves, looked at Meg and shrugged. "I did okay, I guess. Better than last year, I'll give you that."

"Well, that's good news." Meg smiled at Christine. "Do you have another session to do?"

"At two-thirty in the recital hall." And just to make sure she was correct, Christine took out a map of the campus from one of her binders and examined the location of her next appointment, as well as its time annotated on the back of the map, given by the volunteer at registration. "I have about four hours."

Christine sighed and looked at her surroundings. The hallways were starting to fill with contestants. She also noticed that Ms. Giry was not present.

"Meg, where is your mother?" Christine asked.

"Oh, she found an old family friend of ours down the hall while you were singing. She's probably talking to him still."

_How funny, _Christine thought, lightly chuckling to herself. Who would have thought that someone the Giry's knew would be here?

Christine and Meg ended up having lunch together in the Student Break Room just down the hall from Christine's next appointment. Christine didn't eat much, for she was still kind of suffering from nerves and anxiety. Meg, on the other hand, was scarfing down her meal like a gluttonous dog. To be honest, it was slightly appalling. And Ms. Giry…? Well, she still had yet to reunite with the two.

Christine cleared her throat and rose from her chair. "Meg, I'm going to look for your mother. You stay here and enjoy your food."

At least Meg had the etiquette to not talk while having food in her mouth. She looked up at Christine and gave her a thumbs-up before continuing to indulge in her meal.

With two more hours to kill, Christine slowly wandered the hallway filled with vocal students, searching for Ms. Giry. She had no luck finding her, so far.

_Where on earth could she have disappeared to? _Christine asked herself, starting to get concerned.

She turned a corner, down another hall also filled with youthful contestants. And that was when things got uncomfortable. As Christine was walking by a small group of kids in their mid-teens, one boy shouted across the hall.

"Hey, guys, look!" The boy was about sixteen, just slightly taller than Christine, clearly the obnoxious one in his group of companions by the sound of his voice. "It's that girl from last year! She was the talk of the competition!"

Christine attempted to ignore the boy and continue walking, but before she knew it, she was stopped in her tracks by the boy and was unable to escape. He looked at her with unwelcome eyes, his mischievous sneer beginning to appear on his pursing lips.

"Hey, lady, is it true that you croaked on all of your songs last year?" the boy asked snobbishly.

"That is none of your business," Christine answered quietly.

"Why did you come back?" the boy continued his verbal harassment. Then to Christine's shock, he effortlessly grabbed her music out of her arms and held them out of her reach. "You clearly don't belong here if all you're good at is sounding like an ugly toad! I suggest you quit now before you humiliate yourself again."

Christine wasn't one for making witty remarks, and being brought up to act professional, all she could do was to let this jerk trample over her. What hurt more was that his friends were allowing him to harass her, while snickering to themselves.

"You know…" the boy smirked as he examined Christine's binders containing her music, "I could save you the pain and shred your music right here…But luckily for you, I'm in an extremely good mood…"

"And I would have you disqualified if you went through with that action."

Both the boy and Christine widened their eyes in shock as this new voice appeared. It was a light tenor voice; melodious, yet terrifyingly commanding. Christine slowly looked up and saw a tall, slightly muscular, very well-suited young man in his mid-twenties towering over her and the boy with his six-foot-two-inch figure, his dark shadow causing the boy to swiftly turn around (since his voice was apparently not enough) and stare at the man in fear.

"Bullying other contestants is highly intolerant in this competition," the man glared down at his prey with his oceanic blue eyes. Then without warning, he confiscated Christine's music without any difficulty. "You're fortunate that I am also in a good mood, so I am letting you go with a warning. However…If I see you harassing another student again, you will be removed from this competition and suspended. Do I make myself _clear_?"

It took a moment for the boy to make a response, as if trying to form any word of wit.

"Yes, sir…" he finally answered, letting out a sigh of defeat. He then bowed to the man, apologized to both him and Christine, and left to rejoin his friends, also silent with fear.

"That goes for everyone else, as well!" The man irritably announced. "If I see any harassment within these halls, consider yourselves suspended! Understood?!"

The students said nothing. Instead they all bowed their heads in shame and nodded. Christine, on the other hand, remained shocked, in fact mesmerized by what this man was wearing on his face. It was a simple white mask, covering half of his facial details.

What was he hiding under that mask? Was it just to intimidate his peers? Was it an innocent fetish to wear masks in general? Or…was there a blemish that he was too ashamed to reveal? Whatever the case, the way the mask was designed and detailed, and the fact that this man looked annoyed made Christine quite frightened. She had to admit, though, at the same time, he was rather handsome…especially his eyes…

"Are you alright?"

Christine was snapped back into reality. The masked man was now looking at her, his facial expression emotionless, yet his oceanic blue orbs filled with concern. He offered her music back, thankfully in once piece.

"Y-yes," Christine stuttered, slowly accepting the music while her eyes remained fixed upon his. "Thank you, sir."

"Call me Professor Destler." The masked man smiled softly, bowing his head in respect.

The moment he introduced himself, whispers began to permeate the halls. And Christine caught whim of a couple of them.

"I've heard of this guy," one voice said. "He's the head of Julliard's music department. He's a prodigy!"

"I heard he's very strict in his classes," another voice informed. "There was one story that he kicked out a student for not doing the homework assigned."

These words were intimidating Christine. She wanted to be out of this mysterious instructor's presence as soon as possible.

"Thank you again for coming to my rescue, Professor Destler," Christine managed to say with a trembling voice, holding her music close to her chest.

"Of course," Professor Destler's smile remained soft. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to head to my next location for judging. I have no doubt you and I will cross paths again, if not today, maybe in the near future. I wish you the best on any future performances today."

And with that, the professor bowed his head one more time and walked away briskly down the hall.

Countless students stared at Christine with shocked expressions, as if they knew something she didn't, and couldn't believe their eyes of what had just occurred. Christine didn't appreciate the stares, and she especially didn't appreciate the dead silence. To avoid further awkwardness, Christine lightly sprinted away, heading to her next appointment, completely forgetting any other priorities.

* * *

Christine, Meg, and Ms. Giry (who had finally showed up just before Christine's last performance) returned home from the competition. All was silent and grim. Christine set down her belongings on the coffee table, and then sat down on the sofa, twiddling her thumbs and staring off into her darkest thoughts. Meg and her mother both sat on either side of Christine, placing their hands on her wrists and caressing them comfortingly.

"Don't beat yourself up, my dear," Ms. Giry consoled, lightly stroking Christine's curly locks. "You did well…The results are only proof that _I_ failed you as your teacher."

"Mother's right, Christine," Meg added. "This competition is all about finding out your progress in the year. Winning a scholarship is just a plus."

Christine refused to respond. She was trying to fight the tears that were forming in her now cold, defeated eyes. Then, she slowly rose to her feet and silently retired to her bedroom, where no one heard from or saw her for the rest of the night. And she had surrendered to the inner demon that was a small pocket knife painting her pale wrists red. . .


	2. Betrayal

**Chapter Two: Betrayal**

Six months have passed since the vocal competition. Christine could no longer handle the depression from her failure (and the negative comment sheets from the judges she received in the mail two weeks post-competition), therefore made the hurting decision to retire from her music career until she felt like she was mentally and emotionally stable enough to continue. In the meantime, she focused more on the difficult spring semester at the community college she had recently started attending. With the support from Meg, Ms. Giry, and most importantly Raoul, along with the late nights of studying, Christine was able to pass the semester with almost straight A's, with the exception of one class (Psychology) in which she received a D because of the instructor's impossible curriculum as well as Christine's inability to grasp the subject in general. Christine was only upset for no more than a day. It was only _one _class she flunked after all.

Christine's nineteenth birthday came around about a week after the semester ended in mid-May. She decided to spend that week with Raoul, since they hardly saw each other due to the expensive eighty-mile distance, and having only Skype and cell phones to communicate. Raoul spent one day and night with Christine and the Giry's to celebrate Christine's special day before she left with Raoul to his hometown of Middletown, New York. The week they spent together filled with love, bliss, and desire, which led to an unmentionable event on Christine's last night with her beloved…and she loved every single hour, minute, and second of it.

Christine and Raoul's true love vow was made that night.

June arrived. Meg and Ms. Giry announced to Christine that the three of them were going to go on a week-long trip to Florida at the end of the month, and invited Raoul to accompany. When Christine mentioned it to Raoul, he answered with an immediate "yes!" However, two weeks before the trip, Raoul began to change his mind back and forth due to a schedule that continued to be altered spastically. Christine got fed up after about the tenth time Raoul said he could go on the trip, and suggested him to just stay home.

And that was when things went wrong. . .

The day Christine returned home from Florida, Raoul began to act strange. The way he was behaving during their phone and Skype conversations was as if Christine was dealing with a twelve-year-old going through the worst part of puberty. Apparently, something had occurred while Christine was away that made Raoul act so off. Within a week, Christine was lucky she had gotten one text message a day. But they weren't as positive as they usually were. It was one tear-jerking comment after another, and this had triggered Christine to cut again after being clean for five months, punishing herself for something that may or may not have been entirely her fault. Some weight gain had added to this problem, making Christine have difficulty tolerating her appearance when she saw her reflection. All these complications continued until around mid-July.

Christine was alone in her bedroom, reading _Les Misérables _while eating some potato chips, when she received a text message from Raoul.

"_I'm in Manhattan right now visiting my parents. I was wondering if you could catch a cab and meet me at the park where we met. There is something I want to tell you. Meet me in one hour."_

Christine raised an eyebrow at the message. Was everything alright? Quickly, she replied, "yes," to the message before putting her phone in her burgundy, light-weight messenger bag and sprinting out the door to the busy streets of Queens. It took her no more than two minutes to catch a bus heading towards Manhattan. She sat by the window in the back of the bus, trying to fight the anxiety building up in her chest.

_I should probably send Meg and her mom a text to let them know where I'm going, _Christine thought, taking out her cell to inform Meg and Ms. Giry of her current plan and location. Once the text was sent, the cell phone was put away and replaced with an iPod containing about a thousand songs worth of show tunes and classical ballads.

Christine arrived in Manhattan with about fifteen minutes to spare. Once she stepped foot off the bus that made its stop at the park she was asked to meet Raoul at, she sprinted down the path to the specific spot where she and her beloved first met. There was a small bench that looked beyond a tiny pond that contained one or two ducks floating about.

Raoul had not yet arrived, so to pass the time, Christine walked over to the small bench and sat down. She leaned back, her eyes looking up at the blue sky, and breathed in the fresh air. Flashbacks began to play in her mind as she reminisced the day she met Raoul. She remembered that day all too well. It was a year ago. Around senior year of high school, she and Meg were part of a choir festival taking place at the college across the street, the college Christine was currently attending. Raoul was evidently in town doing a photography job, and being a good friend of Meg's, wanted to grab a cup of coffee with her during their break. Meg introduced Christine to Raoul at this very spot. Raoul looked like a dork with his chocolate hair sticking up in various places and his outfit casual, yet professional for a photographer. He was also wearing square-rimmed glasses at that time. He was an overall adorable boy. The next day, Raoul got Christine's phone number through Meg, and they began texting back and forth, just talking about random nonsense. Over the weeks since they met, they grew fond of each other, and soon after, Raoul confessed his love.

It was a complicated relationship for a few months, due to the long distance. But once Christine was able to convince Raoul that he could trust her and the loyalty she promised him, their love grew. Raoul even gave Christine his mother's pendant as a token of his love, his promise, and his loyalty. She never took it off.

Christine let out a huge sigh and looked back at the pond, lifting her hand to stroke the pendant that Raoul had given her. Hopefully, what he wanted to tell her turned out for the better.

"Sorry, I'm late."

Christine turned her gaze to the voice that she recognized immediately. Raoul stood about five feet from her. He looked like he hadn't slept in days; his chocolate locks all over the place, his eyes cold and weary, face unshaven revealing a bit of stubble.

"Darling, is everything alright?" Christine asked, her eyes filled with concern. "You don't look yourself."

Raoul sighed, looking at Christine with no emotion in his expression and not answering her question.

"Do you mind walking with me for a while?" was his response.

"Erm…No, of course not."

Christine, confused, joined Raoul by his side, and together they walked down the path. Not a word was said, no gestures were made. Raoul didn't even offer his hand to hold. With the exception of their footsteps making contact with the concrete, all was quiet. But through this entire walk, Christine's heart began beating with anxiety, trying to find the courage to ask Raoul what the problem was. The way he looked at her, it seemed that whatever he was going to say to her would not be good news.

By the time either of them said something, they stopped in a deserted parking lot. Raoul's Mazda Millennia was the only vehicle present. He turned to face Christine, keeping his distance from her.

"Christine…" he began, taking a deep breath. "I've been under a lot of stress and emotional situations regarding not only myself…but also in this relationship. This war with myself has pushed me to a sickness that kept me up for many nights. I've just now gotten over this illness…but I cannot bear to push myself anymore."

"Raoul, I don't understand…" Christine gave Raoul a look of fear and concern. What was he trying to say?

"My parents agree with this too." Raoul closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and then looked at Christine with cold eyes. "Christine…I think it'd be best that you and I just remain as friends."

Christine felt her heart stop for just a brief moment as her eyes went wide. She quickly shook her head, trying to fight the heavy breathing that started to occur.

"No…no…Raoul, you don't know what you're saying," she rejected.

"Yes, I do. I have to do what is best for me, even it means breaking my promise to you."

Tears began to form in Christine's eyes…But unlike other times, Raoul didn't stop them from falling.

"I can't do this anymore, Christine," Raoul continued. "I feel we've just grown apart, and I have been failing my duty to make you happy."

Raoul stared expressionlessly at Christine as he watched her wipe her tears away. And for the first time, Christine's voice grew loud with rage and despair.

"Why are you doing this to me, Raoul?!" she shouted. "I have been going through a rough time myself, and you knew that! But I kept it to myself, and stood virtually by your side when shit got rough for you! I did everything to make _you _happy even though I needed someone to help _me_ stop crying! I just recently got diagnosed with depression, and what you're doing right now isn't making it any better! In fact, you wanting to just end the relationship is taking the cake right now!"

Raoul's eyebrows lifted slowly at the sound of the first swear word Christine ever spat in front of him. Yet he did not respond.

"I gave you everything, Raoul!" Christine continued. "I gave you my trust, my love, my _childhood _for God's sake! And because of one little dilemma that is a long distance relationship, you're just going to throw it all away like I'm nothing?!"

"Christine…Love…" Raoul interrupted, letting out a sigh before speaking again. "I need someone who I can be closer to that I can support and hold in my arms, and with you living eighty miles away, I can't afford it. I've tried…Seriously tried."

"Why do I get the feeling that your words are a load of bull?" Christine asked, trying to take deep breaths to avoid crying any harder. "I can even see it in your eyes."

It took a moment for Raoul to respond. But when he did try to do so, Christine spoke again.

"I knew the moment I came back from vacation, you started acting strange, like you were so upset that I didn't take you. You started hanging out with other girls; you were pushing me away and refusing my support. The way you say 'I love you,' to me drastically changed. Now, you're just going to give up?! You promised me that we can work this out! You _promised_, Raoul! Am I really not worth _anything _to you anymore?"

Silence again. Raoul could see Christine's chest moving up and down with rage and distraught. He may have felt sympathy, but his decision was already made ages ago. He looked at her apologetically, yet with no regret, and muttered, "I'm sorry…It's over, Christine. My health cannot agree with this relationship anymore. You need to be with someone that will do for you what I could not…"

Christine just stood there, motionless, her eyes filled with disgust, as she let the heavy tears run freely down her porcelain face. Raoul let out one final sigh, slowly approached Christine, and kissed her forehead.

"Goodbye, Christine."

And then he swiftly walked away, got in his car, and drove off into the depths of Manhattan, disappearing within the traffic.

Christine remained where she stood, watching a part of her life end before her eyes. Her eyes eventually ran out of tears to cry, but the throbbing pain in her chest began to worsen…to the point where she had difficulty breathing. Her head started to spin, and her vision began to blur. Before she knew it, she had collapsed and blacked out.

* * *

The sky changed from blue to grey as unfriendly clouds blocked the sun and created tiny raindrops to wet the streets. The summer rain poured on the city and its civilians who failed to prepare for its arrival. Thankfully, the weather was humid enough for the rain to not be so cold.

Christine was found five hours later after being left to suffer from a broken heart. When the police – accompanied by Meg and Ms. Giry – found her unconscious body, she was damp from head to toe, and parts of her skin were bruised and scraped from the fall. She was rushed to the hospital, where she was to spend the night being treated for her wounds and checked for any internal damage. Unfortunately, when Christine finally became conscious, she had come down with a bad case of pneumonia. Five more days were spent in the hospital until she had enough physical strength to be discharged.

* * *

"I need to run a few errands downtown, so you'll have the house to yourself. Are you going to be alright on your own for a while, Christine?"

Meg looked at Christine with worried eyes as she rose to her feet and began to leave Christine's bedside.

"I should be…" Christine answered hoarsely. Her voice was still shot from her illness, and most likely would be for the next month or so.

"Okay, then. I shall return in a couple of hours." And with that, Meg grabbed her purse and walked briskly out the door, leaving Christine by herself.

* * *

"That will be $36.50, miss. Thank you."

Meg had finished purchasing the items she needed, and exit the supermarket, trying to hide the disgust she felt for the horrible expense she had to pay on her debit card.

_Prices have gone up again_, Meg thought, letting out a sigh. _If this keeps up, I might have to consider a second job on top of my waitress position_.

She found herself entering a crowded sidewalk. Deciding to go run errands on Broadway was obviously a bad idea. Matinee performances were going on for each production that Meg was nearby. She needed to catch a bus back to Queens as soon as possible so her worries for Christine, as well as her claustrophobia, would subside.

"Meg? Is that you?"

Meg swiftly turned around, recognizing the voice. Raoul stood in front of her, his eyes showing surprise. Meg wasn't ecstatic to see him; in fact the moment she found out he broke Christine's heart, she had to fight the urge to travel to his residence and punch him in the throat.

And who she saw accompany Raoul wasn't making it any better. He was accompanied by a woman around the same height as him, maybe an inch shorter. She was heavy set, with a light-brown, pixie hair-do and beady, hazel eyes. In Meg's eyes, this broad looked like a downgrade compared to Christine.

"What the hell are you doing here, Raoul?" Meg asked rudely. "And who is _she_?"

Raoul blinked and began stuttering. She caught him at the scene of the crime.

"Oh…T-this is my girlfriend, Heidi. We met at an event a few months ago, and now we're taking summer classes together. She has been there for me since I can remember. We're actually going to go see a show in a bit."

His smile glowed brightly as a tint of pink appeared in his cheeks, taking Heidi by her waist and pulling her close to him.

"Oh, Raoul, you are the sweetest!" she giggled, nuzzling Raoul's shoulder.

Feelings of anger began to spread throughout Meg's small figure, her chest heaved up and down rapidly, and shades of red painted in her already rosy cheeks. In fact, Meg was beyond angry.

"Meg? Are you alright?" Raoul asked, looking at Meg with concern.

And what purged from Meg's mouth frightened both Raoul and his close companion.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" she spat, forming her hands into fists. "YOU LYING, CHEATING, MANIPULATIVE ASSHOLE!"

It was if the entire world had stopped. Every single human being within earshot went silent and turned towards Meg to watch the action taking place.

"Meg, please calm yourself," Raoul sighed, embarrassed and scared at the same time. "You're causing a scene."

"And I have every _fucking _right to!" Meg responded, her voice growing louder. "You hurt my best friend, and you should be ashamed of yourself! She's sick in bed, no thanks to you, you cold-hearted bastard!"

"How dare you insult my boyfriend, blondie!" Heidi yelled, stepping in front of Raoul, thinking that protecting him from Meg's words will solve anything.

"He's nowhere near of being a boyfriend to you!" Meg shook her head in disgust, glaring at the German-built replacement. "Do you even realize what he had done to my best friend?!"

Heidi returned Meg's glare, pouting like a small child. Meg then turned her gaze back to Raoul, who had no remorse showing in his expression.

"He _cheated_!" Meg continued. "After all that she did for him, all she gave him, he betrayed her, just because he got all butt-hurt that she didn't take him with her on vacation! Christine was already going through enough, Raoul! Why would you just go ahead and make it worse?! Just Why?! She loved you!"

Raoul said nothing; instead looked away, avoiding Meg's appalled eyes.

"Heidi, is it?" Meg asked, still glaring at Raoul, her voice now calming down. "I suggest you leave this loser while you still have a chance."

"Why should I?" Heidi scoffed. "It's not my fault your friend was a _psychotic bitch _to my Raoul."

As if Meg's fists had a mind of their own, they immediately came in rough contact with Heidi's nose, causing her to collapse on the concrete and shout multiple tearful swear words. Raoul was in a panic, calling his lover's name with worry cracking in his voice. He then turned to Meg with anger swimming in his eyes, and was about to say something when Meg also punched him in the nose. Raoul hit the ground, joining Heidi and grunting in pain. Trickles of blood could be seen from both of their nostrils from the blow.

At this point, Meg was on the verge of tears, her complexion filled with disgust. "Get out of here, Raoul, and take your fat whore with you. Neither of you belong on Broadway's streets."

She spat on the both of them before leaving them on the concrete. Her footsteps were no longer graceful as she sprinted off, catching the next bus nearby to Queens. When she arrived home, throwing the items she had purchased earlier aside on the dining room table, she rushed to Christine's room, where she was found out of bed, looking out her window.

Christine's body shook, her breathing very unstable. Meg could hear a hint of coughing and sniffling, and when Christine turned to face her, it was nothing Meg has seen before from her best friend. Christine's eyes were cold and red from the tears she cried, her hair was in knots, and it looked like she dug her nails into her own face. Her electronic tablet was tightly grasped in her arms.

"Christine?" Meg attempted to say. She was frightened. "Are you…alright?"

Christine just stared at Meg, trying to find the words to describe her feelings.

"I-I know what happened…" she finally muttered. "Someone uploaded a video onto the Internet…Meg..."

Before Christine could finish her words, she collapsed onto the wooden floor. Meg could no longer control her tears, and let them run freely down her face as she ran to Christine and held her tightly in her arms.

"Oh, Christine. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" She whimpered, burying her face into Christine's ratted locks.

And that was when Ms. Giry had come home from work and saw her daughter in tears with a once again unconscious Christine in her arms.


	3. The Attempt

**Chapter 3: The Attempt**

"Christine?" Ms. Giry called softly as she knocked on Christine's bedroom door. "Dinner is ready."

There was no answer. In fact, there hasn't been a response from Christine in three months. She even refused to leave the bedroom unless she had the house to herself, which was rare, due to Christine's now fragile mentality. Meg and Ms. Giry had to pretend they weren't home to get Christine to leave her bedroom while they spied on her, making sure she didn't do anything reckless.

"Mother, you might as well stop trying." Meg said coldly as she walked by Ms. Giry. "I gave up a month ago. I couldn't even convince her to enroll for classes for the Fall Semester."

Ms. Giry sighed and turned to Meg. "In the condition she's in right now, she wouldn't be able to concentrate in her classes. Taking a semester off is best for her at this time. Even so…I'm beginning to get scared for her health. I'm thinking about taking her to a counselor."

Meg shook her head. "That won't work. The counselor will only prescribe her on medication. She will feel more of a burden."

"So, what are you saying, Meg?" Ms. Giry was starting to get upset. "Are we just going to give up on her and let her suffer with her depression?"

Meg just stared at her mother and shrugged.

"What has happened to you, Meg?" Ms. Giry asked, her eyes filled with disappointment. "What has happened to my daughter?"

There was a brief silence, and as mother and daughter stared at each other, Ms. Giry noticed something different in Meg's sea-green eyes. What used to be eyes containing enthusiasm and determination, they now contained contained loss of hope, loss of happiness, and loss of beauty.

"Like I said before…" Meg eventually answered. "I gave up. If Christine doesn't want help, then so be it. She made that clear when she gave me this scar on my face…"

Taking out a pink hanker-chief from the pocket of her jean-shorts, Meg delicately wiped away the foundation on her right cheek to reveal a thick, brown line.

"Meg, why didn't you tell me about this?" Ms. Giry asked as her voice shook with concern, lifting a hand and just barely grazing Meg's scarred cheek.

"It's just a scratch, Mother," Meg sighed, brushing her mother's hand away. "I was trying to get Christine out for some fresh air, and she slapped me when I laid a hand on her. Her nails came in contact with my cheek. I know that was an accident, but even so…I can be patient with someone for only so long."

"Meg, you and I both know that Christine's behavior is not okay," Ms. Giry argued, "Especially if it's at the point where physical harm comes into play. We need to do something, _anything_."

"Send her away."

Ms. Giry's eyes grew wide at Meg's blunt response. "A-Away?" She stammered. "What do you mean? On the streets? In an institute?!"

"I don't care, Mother! Just get her out of here so we can live the way we used to! Everything was fine until she moved in with us! It's been one bad event after another, and I'm fed up with it! Christine needs to leave or I will!"

At that moment when Meg finished her sentence, Ms. Giry's palm came in fierce contact with her scarred cheek. Luckily, it was just her palm and not her long fingernails, as well. Meg's expression suddenly changed as she put a trembling hand to her now red cheek. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the appalled complexion on her mother's face.

"You are not my daughter…" Ms. Giry muttered, shaking her head in disgust.

Meg's sea-green eyes began to gloss, her body trembling with anger and hatred, and her breathing unsteady.

"My words are absolute…"

Meg swiftly turned her back, and began to stagger to her bedroom at the end of the hall when a ringing crash echoed throughout the house, like a mirror shattering into a million pieces.

The sound came from Christine's bedroom. Both Meg and Ms. Giry stared wide-eyed at each other in fear. Was Christine hurt? Had she broken something by accident or out of rage?

"CHRISTINE!" Ms. Giry called out, violently knocking on the door and trying to force it open, in which it refused to budge. "CHRISTINE DAAÉ, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

Eventually, Ms. Giry had to aggressively kick down the door to enter Christine's bedroom. When she and Meg entered the dark room, their hearts sank from what they had walked into. The wooden floor was covered in shattered glass from the mirror in the far corner that was once intact. Freckles of blood could be seen trailing from the shattered glass leading out the open arched window.

"No…" Ms. Giry gasped as she clenched her dark blouse, trembling from head to toe.

Meg, on the other hand, looked away from the wreckage and swallowed down her nausea. She was never very tolerable with blood, and having to see the dark ruby liquid splattered on the shattered mirror and wooden floors made her nearly sick to her stomach. Not only was she fighting the need to vomit, she was also fighting the tears forming in her eyes. The assumption that Christine may have overheard the argument and caused that mental trigger entered her thoughts. It could have well been possible since the walls in the house were not sound proof, and the argument between herself and her mother was not at all whispered.

"Meg, look…" she heard her mother whimper.

Meg looked up and noticed a piece of college-lined notebook paper found on Christine's night stand and grasped in Ms. Giry's hand. Distorted words were handwritten perfectly in the paper's lines, despite the patches of dampness (no doubt Christine's tears) smearing the black ink.

Both Meg and her mother feared to read the text Christine had written on this piece of paper. Nevertheless, together they viewed the note, and the tears they held back finally flowed free as what they had feared became true.

_By the time you read this, I will most likely be long gone from this world I was cursed to live in. I can no longer bear this burden that I possess to you or everyone else around me. I caused nothing but pain and suffering, and it would be the best decision for me to just end it all before I make it any worse. I am no longer able to see the hideous beast that stares back at me whenever I gaze into the mirror. The images of my past that continue to haunt my mind have won…Please, don't grieve over me. Please, don't look for me. I'd rather die and feel beautiful in Hell than live to let society rip me into even tinier pieces. But remember this…I will always love you and think of you as the family I never truly had. Thank you for everything…_

_ -Christine _

* * *

The night was cold, but not cold enough to freeze over a grown human body. The Hallow moon was shining brightly over Queens, illuminating every pathway in the park that Christine was floating through. The voices of the ravens and owls echoed throughout the park, giving the essence that the day of pumpkins and superstitions was rapidly approaching.

Christine could not feel that essence; the cold, crisp air, the sounds of God's nocturnal, feathered aviators, nothing. All she felt was the numbness of her porcelain body and the trickles of blood that cascaded from her knuckles and wrists as she effortlessly carried herself to the giant oak tree that towered over the large pond, letting the cinematic record of torturing memories play on repeat in her head.

This was it. After all the pain and suffering, this was going to be the moment where Christine was going to finally be happy.

She slowly lifted her head to gaze at the oak tree, scanning its roots and braches. On the highest branch was a large piece of rope tied to form a noose used to strangle and snap the necks of its prey, like a deadly boa constrictor. This was the same noose her father used to take his own life the previous year. It was left on this tree in his memory.

And now Christine was going to follow in his footsteps.

Slowly and effortlessly, she approached the tree and climbed her way to the top. She usually wasn't the one for climbing, but this night, she was determined to reach her goal. Around the same time, the wind began to whistle and cause some of the tree's branches to move, especially the branch containing the noose.

Once Christine made it to the top, she looked down at the pond that the tree towered over. If the first intention didn't work, there was always a Plan B. Christine then turned her gaze to the noose ten feet away and ten feet below. The noose began to sway slightly due to the winds. After one deep breath, Christine lowered herself to her hands and knees, and began to crawl towards the noose. As she neared closer, the branch became narrower, making it difficult to keep balance if one was to decide to stand.

_Just a little more, _Christine thought as she lifted a bloodied hand to reach out and grab the rope. After positioning herself to sit on the branch, she carefully pulled the rope up.

She caressed the noose, feeling every detail of its rough, sturdy texture. It was the most beautifully made piece of rope that she had ever witnessed to touch. And it made her smile softly at the thought of this creation wrapping lovingly around her neck.

"Soon, this will all be over…" Christine whispered, the strength in her voice no longer capable to project. "Soon, I will make everyone happy by ridding a disgraceful, ugly, beast that performs pain and humiliation…And I will be happy that I will be in a place where I truly belong…"

She carefully stood up, her toes digging into the oak's branch, grasping tightly to the noose in her hand. The last of her tears began to flow freely down her cold, pale cheeks; tears of freedom, tears of joy, tears of the torturing memories that she would be leaving behind.

With one final look down at the black pond, placing the noose around her neck and adjusting it to the perfect fit, Christine lifted her head and gazed at the dark heavens.

"Forgive me…"

And then she closed her eyes and readied herself to step off the branch to her happiness…

* * *

Deciding to take a stroll down Queen's park on the night before Halloween was usually not something on Erik Destler's itinerary. There was nowhere else to go that was quiet to ease his mind after a stressful day at work, and going straight home in a bad mood wasn't going to help either. All of the classes he taught had midterms, and his private lesson with his most aggravating student almost drove him mad. Once that lesson was over, Erik immediately bolted out of his office and drove off of Julliard's campus to find some place to calm himself. He spent hours until nightfall driving around half of the state and through horrible traffic. Almost giving up, He eventually found himself in Queens, the only park with much less people, and evidently the most Halloween decorations.

Perfect.

Erik stepped out his truck, and breathed in the fresh air. He was feeling better already. The wind was blowing wonderfully against the uncovered half of his face, giving that crisp, cool feeling that his stuffy home wouldn't allow. His sandy brown hair, once slicked back for professionalism, was now flowing freely within the song the wind was sweetly singing to him. He closed his eyes and continued to listen, lifted a hand to run through his hair.

_I should do this more often, _Erik thought as he smiled softly.

He opened his eyes and began to stroll down the pathway of Queen's park, appreciating the other sounds that God and nature brought, as well as the pumpkins with the faces covering the lanterns, making the lights orange and wonderfully eerie.

With each sound Erik heard in the vicinity, he took advantage of them to compose a piece in his head. He pictured the strings' lush _Andante _up and down scales, the wind chimes glistening at each _crescendo _and _fermata. _By the time he had finished his mental composition (in which it would be handwritten once he got home), he found himself stopping in the middle of the park, his ocean-blue eyes staring beyond the large black pond with the large geyser spewing out from its mid-section. As he gazed across the pond, he played his mental composition once more, bringing him such arousing sensations that only he could hear and feel.

Yet...there was something missing…

A voice to sing his melody, a voice to sing his words to fit with his inner composition; THAT was what was missing. If only there were such a voice. His students by far couldn't manage his own music, whether it be because of its such complexity, or that his students' voices – professional sounding or not – not creating the spark he craved.

And that was when that girl entered his thoughts. Yes, that girl he met at the N.A.T.S. competition back in January, the one that he stopped that kid from bullying. He never had the chance to hear her voice, but just by looking at her, he felt the aura of strong potential rising from her petite form. And she was fairly beautiful…In fact, angelically beautiful… Her eyes were of like sapphires that glistened splendidly when rain came in its contact, yet part of them hid a story that refused to tell the cruel. Her chestnut, curly locks were as lush as the music he composed. Her skin was porcelain and fragile, with scars almost noticeable in some places.

Alas…He never caught her name. Throughout the year, he thought about her at least once a week, and he never knew her name!

"I wonder how she's doing." Erik asked himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by a slight strike on the head. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it was noticeable.

"What the hell?" Erik grunted as he felt whatever landed on his head. It was a medium-sized twig.

His lifted his head and noticed a large oak tree that looked over the giant pond. The twig must have fallen from there. Erik scanned the tree, his brows scrunching together. What on earth could have caused this nicely sized twig to disconnect from its home?

And that was when he saw her…

The girl he met those nine months ago, on the highest branch, standing at the edge, looking like she was ready to simply step off. She looked broken, curly locks uncouth, nightgown spotted with blood perhaps. He couldn't see very well from where he stood, but what he could decipher, it seemed like she had a rope tightly secured around her neck.

He realized what she was doing, and that made his eyes grow wide.

"DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP!" he shouted, trying to get the girl's attention. "PLEASE, COME DOWN!"

He knew she had heard him, for she turned her head and looked down at her new target. He could see her eyes growing wide as her body swayed slightly with the wind. And then a slight sigh of relief escaped his lips as he watched her remove the noose from around her neck.

"SUICIDE IS NOT THE ANSWER!" Erik called out to her. "IT DOESN'T HAVE TO END THIS WAY! PLEASE! COME DOWN!"

They continued to stare at each other, their breathing moving in sync. At long last, the girl dropped the noose, letting it fall back into its place, and began to make her way back to the safest part of the oak. Her eyes continued to fix on Erik, like she was in a trance, or was seeing a ghost. Whatever the case, she was too much attentive on him to look where she was going. With one false step, the porcelain lady slipped off the edge of the branch.

That mini-heart attack moment came to pass as Erik watched her tumble down. Before he knew it, his legs acted faster than his brain as he dashed towards where he suspected she would fall, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would catch her in time. He was about ten feet short. Luckily, the body hit a deep part of the water, and began to sink.

With one sharp breath, Erik stripped off his white, collared shirt and his mask, revealing what he usually doesn't reveal, and dove into the dark pond. Thanks to the brightness of the Hallow moon, it took Erik not more than a minute to find his porcelain victim, swiftly pulling her into his arms and swimming her up to the surface.

She was coughing up water when they surfaced, but when they reached land, she wasn't moving. Erik laid her gently on the grass and put an ear to her chest. Thank God, she was breathing.

_She must be resting_, Erik thought as he lifted his gaze to her pale face.

Why did she look like a moving corpse in the first place? Why was she so determined to end her life? What happened in that span of nine months that triggered her to do what he rescued her from doing?

He would have to ask those questions when she recovered. For now, he was just relieved that she was alive and in a peaceful slumber.

He smiled softly, and caressed the face of his long lost acquaintance. "It's okay. You're safe now. Just rest easy."

Once he put his shirt and mask back on, he effortlessly lifted the slumbering body and carried her all the way to his truck. Her head rested on his shoulder as he drove back to his home in New York City.


	4. Erik

**_Hello, my lovely followers. I would like to take a brief moment to apologize for the lack of updates. After my Birthday vacation back in May, things in my life began to get busy and depressing, to say the least. I'd also like to thank you for being so patient with me. I took a lot of time to make this chapter as special as possible just for you. Now without further ado, enjoy Chapter 4!_**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Erik **

Music…Sweet music...

Christine hadn't heard something so hauntingly beautiful in such a long time. Even in her current world of black, she could hear the grand piano playing as if she was actually witnessing it being performed at a concert hall. She could feel an actual smile painting on her lips; a smile that she didn't have to force for once.

Gradually, out of nowhere, a voice joined in with the piano. It was effortless, melodious…angelic.

Christine couldn't make out the words. In fact, she was too attentive to the hauntingly pure tenor voice itself to have the ability to listen to the lyrics.

That voice combined with the piano caused an arousing sensation within Christine. She could feel the notes on the piano soothingly caress her body in unmentionable places, the voice echoing in her ear causing chills from the back of her neck to her lower spine. This feeling she had, it was full of burning desire…yet, at the same time, hinted with security, as if the music and the voice that called out to her were going to keep her safe, as if they were an actual human caring for her like a delicate rose.

_Is this what Heaven feels like? _Christine thought as she continued to let the ravishing music stimulate her senses. _Is this how I shall be greeted at The Gates when I open my eyes? Am I finally home?_

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the voice. What happened?

Christine began to panic. "Please, don't stop…" she heard herself whimper.

No answer.

Maybe this wasn't Heaven after all. Maybe this was that place in-between Heaven and Hell, where there was nothing but darkness and audible mind-screws, until that frightening, unexpected moment when all those nightmares attack at once. Luckily for Christine, her nightmares did not appear in her darkness. However, she was not content with the dead silence.

And then another thought came to her mind.

_What if I'm not dead after all?_ She thought. _What if I'm actually sleeping on a bed, someone's sofa? _

She attempted to recall what she did. All she could remember was standing on a branch with a rope around her neck, and then finding herself in some pitch-black dreamland staring at a ghostly, possibly angelic figure in the distance calling to her and beckoning her closer. Next thing she knew, she was submerged with her lungs filling up with water. She remembered nothing else after that… But she had to be dead! If it wasn't by noose, then it had to be by drowning!

_Maybe I should open my eyes…_

Slowly and forcefully, her eyelids opened. It took a moment for her vision to adjust, but once it did, Christine found herself staring at a brick ceiling. She had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn't imagining. The ceiling remained still and real. She could also feel warmth gradually returning to her body. Nearby, she heard a clock chime ten times.

Ten O'clock. Morning? Evening?

It didn't matter at this point.

Christine averted her gaze from the ceiling to notice that she was bundled in a thick, black blanket on a scarlet, Victorian-styled sofa. This was not her blanket. This was not a sofa she had recognized.

Christine couldn't figure out where she had ended up. This definitely was not Ms. Giry and Meg's house. And she was very certain that _he _didn't find her and take her to his house. But she knew for sure that she was alive, and someone had rescued her from her attempted suicide and brought her into warm shelter.

Slowly, Christine managed to sit up on the sofa so she could have a better look around from where she was. It seemed to be a vintage-themed common room. Like the ceiling, the walls were made of brick. No portraits were seen to decorate these bare walls; however, a nicely sized, black, flat-screen television was mounted on the wall, facing the couch. Countless shelves surrounded the television in pillars, being the home of many films and what also seemed to be video games, all organized alphabetically by genre and console. The gaming and movie consoles themselves were neatly secured in a mahogany cabinet below the television.

To Christine's assumption, she was most likely rescued by a highly techie individual. But that assumption was promoted when she turned her head to a corner and found even more shelves perfectly stacked with books lined up to the corridor with doors leading to God knows where.

Christine was indeed rescued by a nerd.

"Ah, you're awake."

Christine nearly jumped out of her seat and let out an audible gasp as she heard the voice come from a blind side. Swiftly, she turned her head, and immediately her eyes grew wide. Standing by the other end of the couch in a black undershirt and flannel pajama bottoms was someone that she had not encountered in nine months, but could be easily recognized by the white half-mask and the oceanic-blue orbs staring at her.

She could not form any words to respond with. She remained in her sitting position on the couch, breathing in the same tempo as her now rapidly beating heart and giving Professor Destler that look of shock, with just a hint of fear.

"My apologies," Professor Destler said, his expression showing a hint of concern. "I didn't scare you, did I?"

Christine didn't answer verbally or with gestures.

"Do you remember me?" Professor Destler asked. "I stopped that kid from harassing you at the N.A.T.S. competition back in January."

He took a few tiny steps closer to Christine, who continued to stare, and still unable to respond.

"You probably haven't noticed, but I took the liberty of bandaging your arms," Professor Destler continued, "Don't worry; I didn't touch your gown…Well, I did what I could to dry it without crossing a line with your personal space, but I don't think the blood stains will be possible to be removed now."

At long last, Christine made a move. Slowly, she removed the blanket from her body and examined her bandaged arms, stained with blood. She then took a gander at her night gown. Sure enough, dried blood stains were splattered all over it.

She didn't notice while examining her bandages and her stained gown that Professor Destler had slowly approached her and was now sitting beside her on the sofa. It wasn't until he attempted to reach a hand out to place it on her forehead did she notice and quickly flinch away.

"There's no need to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you." The professor assured. "I just want to make sure your body temperature is back to normal."

Christine clutched the blanket tightly to her body, not saying a word as her cold, blue eyes stared at the professor in fear.

"Please, let me help." Destler sighed. "I would at least like to know the name of the damsel I rescued at the park last night."

A slight gasp escaped from Christine's chapped lips. She couldn't believe what she heard. Twice now, this masked man sacrificed his time and health to save her. And they've only encountered that same amount. However, this time, Christine didn't remember seeing Destler come to her rescue that night when she tried to take her life. Or did she?

"Daaé…" she muttered after a long pause, having difficulty speaking. "Christine Daaé."

Professor Destler smiled at Christine softly. "It is a pleasure to reacquaint with you, Christine." And then his smile faded, "Are you sure you don't remember seeing me last night?"

Christine shook her head. "No…"

She found herself gazing into those eyes again, that mask again. They balanced each other. The mask gave such intimidation, but the ravishing depth of his eyes made his face overall innocent. As Christine stared into those mesmerizing eyes of her masked rescuer, she suddenly felt a sense of comfort, as if his eyes were speaking to her.

_You are safe, _they seemed to say. _You can trust me._

"H-how did…?" she stuttered hoarsely, slowly lowering her guard.

"How did I save you?" Destler completed her question. "I shall tell you if you kindly answer two questions for me."

Christine nodded slowly. "I can try…"

"Question One," Destler began, "What was the last thing you remember when you tried to hang yourself?"

Christine blinked, hints of unfathomability in her complexion.

"Well…" she looked down and twiddled her thumbs, thinking that would help her remember, as she cleared her throat. "I had my eyes closed…And I prayed for God to forgive me for what I was about to do…And then I thought I was dead at that moment…"

Professor Destler just sat there and listened, trying to understand Christine's words. Her voice was so trashed, so quiet, that he could almost barely hear her. Nevertheless, he politely requested her to continue.

"I was in this world of nothingness," Christine hoarsely continued, "waiting for something to happen to confirm that I had succeeded in killing myself, since I heard that death was painless… That was when I heard this voice calling to me…I turn my head and I see this ghostly figure in the darkness. This figure had no detail what so ever.

"The figure sounded like a man with a very haunting voice that beckoned me closer. He told me I was going to be okay, that my days of suffering were over. I began to approach this 'ghost man' when I fell down a deeper darkness [if that was ever possible], and began choking on water…I was out after that, thinking that maybe, just maybe, that was it. I was finally dead…"

Christine looked back up at Destler to see if he was still present. Her eyes met his, and she could see the unfathomability within, as well as deep sorrow.

"Second question…" was how he responded, his voice very quiet. "What triggered you to do what you did? The slashes on your arms, the suicide attempt?"

It was then that the memories came back to Christine, those tortuous memories that caused her to fight the tears that wanted to form in her eyes.

"I promise you that your answer will not leave this house," Destler assured. "You can trust me. You can confide in me…I want to help you, Christine."

At this point, the tears began to roll down Christine's broken face. Quickly, she looked down once again to avoid Destler's gaze, letting her chestnut locks hide the tears.

"This was not the first time I attempted suicide…" she choked. "The last time I tried was when I was thirteen. You see…my mother was hardly ever around because she worked three jobs to make ends meet, so I didn't really get that affection from her. But if she was ever around, she would be very strict with me on my grades and my influences. Needless to say that I grew up way too fast… My father wasn't very affectionate, either; in fact he was more attentive to himself than he was to the family altogether. When my mother died seven years ago, he went into this phase that shut him up in the bedroom and completely forgot that I existed, making me fend for myself. But that was just the beginning…

"Throughout my life, I was harassed and bullied in school because I was different both on the outside and inside. I wasn't skinny like the other girls, and I wasn't into the popular trends as far as clothes, music, and television goes. To put it simply, I was a geek that sung Opera, and got busted for it. In addition, I was extremely socially awkward, and the way I talked drove my peers away, including my first middle school crush. Jacoby, his name was…He rejected me because I wasn't attractive for his taste. He was into the supermodels with big boobs and blonde hair. I guess that was when I felt alone _and _ugly…That drove me to self-harm and suicidal thoughts in the first place. I never told my father about it, but he eventually found out, and something snapped. He became very protective, and he isolated me between school hours, ridding every harmful object from the house. I guess things got better after that until one night a year ago…

"It was my senior year in high school. I came home from a former friend's house to find my father on a drunken spree. Apparently, he got fired from his job, and that triggered him to drink. He couldn't even humanly function…"

Destler had a grave, sickening feeling that Christine went through one of the most traumatic experiences females her age would ever experience.

"He didn't…" he whispered grimly while watching Christine clear her throat once more.

"Almost…" she answered, wiping her tears with her arm. "He did physically attack me, but I was able to push him away before he… Well anyway, when he became sober shortly after, he felt complete shame for what he did and hung himself…"

Christine began to tremble in despair. She didn't want to tell her story anymore, but at the same time she did, because for the first time, someone actually sat and paid close attention to her words, responding with complete honesty, whether verbally or – in Destler's case – with facial features. Through her messy locks, Christine could see a hint of sheer disappointment on the masked man's face.

"Ever since my father assaulted me and killed himself for it last year, everything in my life just started falling apart even more than it did as a child" she continued, "I couldn't find the heart to sing anymore, and every time I failed at competitions, I ask myself why I even continue. I finally decided to quit singing after my failure at the last competition…And began cutting instead…

"What was worse, three months ago, my boyfriend of one year cheated and dumped me for some plus-sized slut because I wasn't woman enough for him…After everything that I did for him…Through tears and obstacles that hit us…"

"I'd like to stop you right there for a moment, if I may," Destler politely interrupted. He once again had a sickening feeling, this time about what Christine meant in her previous statement. "When you say 'everything,' you don't mean…"

He cleared his throat as a suggested gesture.

"Including that…" Christine shamefully answered. "The only man left in my life, and he did things that I cannot forget, and it haunts me...The day he betrayed me, he left me out in the rain, and I got sick because of that. Now, he's in the arms of another girl, and I'm left with a big hole in my heart, feelings of hatred and despair, and an irrational fear of people touching me. And to top it off, my guardians gave up on me; they said I was a curse to their family, and I should disappear."

There was a moment of silence. Tears continued to roll down Christine's ivory cheeks, and at this point, she let them. It was no use to box them up for so long from other eyes. Destler, on the other hand, was trying his best not to tear up, feelings of disgust and sympathy rolling in his stomach. He wanted to reach his hand out and hold those bandaged wrists, to let Christine know that she was no longer alone.

"Why you decided to rescue me from finding my eternal happiness, I do not know…" Christine said at last in between sniffles. "But, Professor Destler, you should have let me die. I didn't want to be tortured anymore. I'm a worthless disgrace to the human race, with no inch of beauty or talent in my veins."

Destler had it at this point.

"You listen to me, Miss Daaé," he snapped, his voice increasing in volume, causing Christine to snap up and stare wide-eyed at him, "You are a special young lady, and already hearing what you went through doesn't thrill me one bit. It actually sends a sharp pain through my heart to hear this. You do not deserve any of this torture! The cutting is not okay, the self-hate is not okay, and suicide attempt was most definitely not okay!"

Christine had no idea how to respond. She was so much into shock, all she could do was let her eyes wander spastically back and forth at Destler's. Those beautiful eyes were now stern and frightening, but only just for a moment before they gradually calmed and returned to normal.

"I saved you for a reason, Miss Daaé," Destler continued, his voice softening. "You are such an important creation in God's world, and I could definitely see that the moment I met you nine months ago. I felt that aura when I first looked at you. You have many special, beautiful things, Christine, and I believe with the proper help and care, you can get back up and face the obstacles; 'Darkest before the Dawn,' being the most common expression."

Christine once again turned away from the masked professor, shaking her head in disbelief. "What makes you think that I deserve to exist…?"

"Because, believe it or not, I know what it's like to not feel good enough…"

Slowly, Christine looked back up at the professor. There was a glimmer of utter sadness in those eyes.

"When I saw you on that branch, I remembered the time I tried doing what you attempted," he confided. "Like you, I didn't want to be tortured with myself anymore. I felt like a complete outcast because of who and what I was. This mask that you see," he pointed at his simple, white half-mask on his face, "is covering something so horrid, it would make you sick. I was born with it because of a chemical reaction in the alcohol that my mother nearly binged on while pregnant with me. I wasn't very happy when I found out at such a young age. This curse drove people away, thinking that I had some sort of plague. I was called morbid names that are too much for your delicate ears…

"I was also diagnosed with Asbergers Syndrome, which – if you didn't know – is a diabolic combination of Autism, OCD, and ADD. That combined with my defect made me a very hated and lonely child. No one, not even my parents, gave me a chance to prove myself worthy of being successful. I was intelligent beyond my years, and I had the knack of inventing, composing, anything you could think of. And, like you, I got busted for it. I was shunned for being me. By the time I was sixteen, I was kicked out of my own home and forced to live on the streets of Broadway. I had those dark thoughts. I attempted to hang myself in Central Park."

Destler had to pause for a moment to swallow down the whimper that was trying to escape his mouth. It was Christine's turn to feel sympathy. She wasn't the only one that felt alone in a highly populated planet. There was someone else that felt almost the same torture.

"Obviously, I failed," the professor continued after letting a deep sigh. "The rope snapped when I jumped, and I ended up busting my left leg. Luckily, the former Lead Director of Music at Julliard was there at the same time, and took me to the hospital to have it casted. Things went better after that. He was not driven away by my face, but he knew how much I myself despised it, and gave me this mask. His late wife had a mental disorder, so he knew how to care for someone with such flaws. He adopted me as his son and made me his intern at the college. He knew of my talent, my passion for the Arts, and he wanted to help me pursue my career in that area of expertise. I was practically already a student there at such a young age.

"My adopted father died of cancer three years later, and I was once again, alone. This man treated me like I was important, and he was taken from me. But, I grew stronger. I valued my life now. I was becoming an adult, and my life was just now beginning. Shortly after, I took my adopted father's place as Lead Director of Music, as well as a Music Theory professor and vocal coach for Julliard's students. I was respected and feared by most. Yes, I get lonely sometimes, but that gives me the opportunity to focus on my compositions and learn more about the world.

"I know I just gave you my life story, but the moral of it is that you don't give up. Christine…You are something special, and I am not letting that go to waste."

Destler smiled softly at Christine as he slowly reached for her hand to hold for her comfort. And surprisingly…this time, she did not retract. His touch was warm and soft, inviting her to a much safer shelter.

"P-professor…" Christine stuttered, staring at the hand holding hers then back at Destler.

"Please, call me Erik."

Christine blinked with surprise. No more formalities? "A-Are you sure?" she asked.

"Of course I am… You are now part of my life and in my home. Formalities are not needed here. However, I will go by 'Professor Destler' in Julliard's halls."

There was this sort of warmth developing within Christine's cheeks, unknown whether it was blush or the returning of liveliness.

"If you let me," Erik's voice suddenly became shy and abnormally sweet. "I'd like to give you the honor of being my roommate, as well as taking you on as my student."

Christine had difficulty finding the words to respond with. For the first time in months, maybe years, a glimmer of hope lit up in her face, and most importantly in her heart. The stone-coldness within slowly began to thaw. At the same time, however, there was a hint of fear in her eyes.

"B-But, Professor - I mean Erik," she stuttered. "I can't sing anymore."

"With enough speech therapy and training, you will sing again," Erik assured. "I will make that happen myself, I promise you. And no need to worry about not being a student at Julliard. I'll make arrangements to have you enrolled to the school next semester on a special, full-ride scholarship."

Erik noticed that there were still some tears gleaming on Christine's pale cheeks, in which he calmly and delicately wiped them away with a single finger. His pale lips formed a smile that Christine never saw in anyone. It was a comforting smile; an honest, comforting smile.

Christine eventually returned that smile with her own. She didn't have to make a verbal response; it was all in her expression. Deep inside, she wanted to sing again, but only if she found one special reason to. And she believed that the man in front of her was that reason.

"I'll take your smile as a 'yes,'" Erik enthused. "Excellent. That makes me very happy."

He let out a chuckle as a hint of blush appeared on his unmasked cheek. Not wanting Christine to see, he looked away and found himself glancing at his wrist watch.

"It's getting late. I should head to bed. And you, young lady, need to get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow."

And with that, Erik looked back at Christine, smiled, and kissed the hand he held respectfully before rising to his feet and retiring to his bedroom down the hall.

Erik…That name was on Christine's mind for the continuation of the night. It was a beautiful name for such a wonderfully unique individual. And to think that he wanted to help her…Maybe it was meant to be for him to save her from the darkness she dwelled in. And if that was the case, it could be very much possible that she would finally be happy.

Erik…


End file.
